


Deep Inside My Heart, I Know I Can't Escape

by Chash



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, F/M, Fraternities & Sororities, Trapped In A Closet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 08:51:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6045475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chash/pseuds/Chash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clarke recruits Bellamy to help her with a prank. They very nearly get caught.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Deep Inside My Heart, I Know I Can't Escape

Clarke's favorite thing about Bellamy Blake is his ability to hold petty grudges.

She was one of those grudges, at first, back when they met. They were in the same group for team-building exercises during freshman orientation, and immediately started fighting about leadership styles. They'd remained enemies until spring semester, when they were in Professor Sydney's poli-sci seminar together and realized they both hated her more than they could ever hate each other. And that's been the defining aspect of their relationship ever since, less friendship than an alliance against other people who piss them off more. It's lasted for three years, as they both rose in their own Greek circles, and made a partnership of her sorority and his frat, based primarily on spite and stubbornness. 

Which is how they ended up here, in the Gamma Rho Omicron house, trying to pull a prank on Lexa Woods.

"Have I mentioned lately how much your maturity impresses me?" Bellamy asks. He's putting shaving cream in Lexa's desk drawer while Clarke strips her bed sheets. 

"It's prank week."

"Uh huh. And this has nothing to do with her fucking us over for those scholarships last year."

"It has more to do with our shitty breakup for me," she says. "I figured you were still pissed about the scholarships, though."

"I can be mad about, like, fifteen things at once," he says. "Don't underestimate me here."

Clarke grins. "Come help me with this mattress, okay?"

They've just finished wrapping the mattress in tin foil and putting the sheets back on as they were before when Clarke hears the sound of voices downstairs, and she and Bellamy both freeze.

"I thought you said they were out for another hour," he hisses.

"I thought they were!" She glances around, but he's faster, grabs her wrist and tugs her after him, toward Lexa's closet.

"Seriously?" Clarke huffs, and he glares at her.

"Did you have a better idea?"

She looks around one more time, desperate, but there are footsteps on the stairs, and it might not be _Lexa_ , but they should still give it a few minutes before they try to escape out the window anyway. Just in case.

"Fine," she huffs, and lets him drag her into the closet.

Which is--tiny. Seriously, _incredibly_ tiny.

"I thought all girls had giant closets," he mutters, and she elbows him. Honestly, between the size of the closet and the number of clothes Lexa has in here, it would be harder to _not_ elbow him. One of them is going to get a black eye.

"Gender essentialism," she says.

"I thought all girls had to have a bunch of clothes because of shitty societal expectations, and therefore had to have giant closets." It's dark, but she can still see the white flash of his teeth when he smiles.

He's very, very close.

"We should be quiet," she says, soft, trying not to be aware of what's actually _happening_. The closet is hot and close, and even standing as far apart as possible, they're still brushing up against each other.

He still has his fingers wrapped around her wrist too, and it's a lot, because her favorite thing about Bellamy might be his taste in enemies, but her second favorite thing is everything else about him, his sarcastic sense of humor, the way he rolls his eyes at her during Greek life meetings, the spray of freckles across his face, the scar on his lip, his stupid excitement over weird historical trivia.

It's easy to ignore, most of the time, because most of the time, they're busy. They're not the kind of friends who hang out in close quarters; they work together on official business.

She might come up with excuses to work with him more than other people, but it's still _work_.

She might also be a little stubborn about some things that aren't grudges. Things like her feelings for Bellamy. Raven has told her she is on multiple occasions. 

So, yeah. This is the kind of situation she actively tries to _avoid_.

It's actually worse when he shuts up, because then there's nothing else to focus on except the places they're pressed together, his leg against hers, his hand on her wrist. Nothing to focus on but how warm it is and the steady, strangely familiar sound of his breathing.

"Maybe she's--" he starts, barely audible, and then she hears the door open and jerks her free hand up to cover his mouth.

Clarke can hear Lexa talking to Tris, one of the GRO sophomores, nothing particularly exciting, but at least they're _talking_. If they stop without saying something obvious like, _Now let's leave for the next half an hour so the people hiding in my closet can get out_ , Clarke's not sure how they'll know it's safe to leave.

Maybe they just live in Lexa's closet now. Maybe that's who they'll be from here on out. Closet people.

She feels Bellamy's mouth move under her hand, and she realizes she's pressed up against him, her hand still on his mouth, close enough that she knows when he swallows.

When her eyes flick up, he's already looking at her, and she moves her hand away slowly.

She's adjusted enough to the dark of the closet that she sees him wet his lips, so she assumes he'll be able to make it out when she mouths, _Sorry_. He shakes his head slightly, still looking at her, and she realizes she hasn't actually moved away only when he tugs her wrist, puts it at his waist.

Her fingers bunch in the fabric of his t-shirt on reflex, and he nods, like this was what he was waiting for. He lets go of her to slide his hand up onto her cheek, and she presses closer, flush against him even though it's too hot and this isn't going to help at all. But he mouths, _Okay?_ and there's nothing to do but nod.

His lips are firm and demanding, like she's always wanted them to be. His fingers tangle in her hair, and she opens for him at the first slide of his tongue, swallowing his moan of pleasure.

He pushes himself off the wall so he can press her up against it instead, moving only a few inches, trapping her with his body. He kisses her like he's taking notes for later, testing out what she likes so he can do it again. Clarke just wants _more_ , wants to feel him everywhere she can, wants to know every fucking inch of him.

She nearly whines when he pulls away, but he trails his mouth down her jaw to her neck, and when she whimpers, he puts one big hand over her mouth, which is so hot she can't do anything but grind against his thigh.

The breath he lets out shudders, and Clarke's never been so turned on in her entire life.

His other hand trails up her leg, under the hem of her skirt, and she's glad he's still covering her mouth, because she makes a noise that she doesn't want anyone to ever hear. It's that embarrassing. But his hands feel so fucking good.

His mouth finds hers again, hotter and wetter, more desperate, and she wraps her leg around his, can't get close enough, doesn't think it's possible to be close enough.

And then, Lexa shouts.

At least, Clarke assumes it's Lexa; she's never heard her sound startled before. Regardless, it's enough to bring them back to reality, and Bellamy pulls away from her as best he can, considering she doesn't actually let go of him and there's really nowhere for him to go. His eyes are too dark for her to read, but his fingers twitch against her leg like he's nervous, so she curls her own fingers in his hair, gentle and affectionate, and smiles at him.

His own grin is swift and bright in the darkness, and when he kisses her again, it's soft, quick, a promise.

_Desk or bed?_ he mouths, when he pulls back, and it takes her a second to remember he means Lexa, and isn't asking where she wants to fuck him, and that _all of the above_ isn't the answer he's looking for.

She hears a tearing noise outside the closet and mouths, _Bed_. He nods.

"Who is responsible for this? Tris! Indra!" Lexa yells, and there's the sound of running feet, and then the door slamming.

Bellamy and Clarke exchange a look, and Clarke mouths, _One minute_.

Bellamy shakes his head a little, takes his hand off her leg so he can hold up his fingers. He counts thirty seconds of silence down, and then goes for the doorknob.

The room is empty, Lexa's bed stripped, the tin foil already torn. The window is still open, no screen, letting in the warm spring air, and Clarke tangles her fingers in Bellamy's to pull him after her. She pokes her head out, makes sure the coast is clear, and then slides out of the window carefully, onto the tree by the house, waiting for Bellamy to follow her before she climbs all the way down.

On firm ground, she takes his hand again, and they make it almost all the way back to his building before they lose control and start laughing.

"Holy _shit_ , that was your worst plan ever," he says, grinning hugely. "You said she wouldn't be back until five!"

"I thought she wouldn't!" she protests, but she's laughing just as hard as he is. 

He tugs her inside and up the stairs. "You _promised me_. You told me you were one-hundred percent sure."

"Well, if I'd said I was seventy-five-percent sure, you wouldn't have come with me," she says. 

Without letting go of her, he gets his keys out and unlocks his room, pulling her inside and trapping her up against his door. The laughter dies in her throat at the look in his eyes, not just hot, but _warm_ , fond and hopeful, like he's looking for a lot more than a fumbling hookup in a closet.

"Of course I would have come with you," he says.

Clarke winds her arms around his neck, smiling. "Next time I won't work so hard, then."

The kiss is softer this time, slower. Bellamy lets her take the lead, seems happy just to slide his hands under the hem of her shirt, stroke his thumb against her hip bone, and settle in. It doesn't seem to matter that he was hard and desperate less than twenty minutes ago; he seems genuinely content just to be making out with her, and it makes her whole chest feel warm.

But she also wants him naked and inside her, like, yesterday.

He chases her mouth when she pulls back, making her laugh. "I'm looking for your bed," she says.

"My closet is also _really_ cramped," he says, but he's already tugging her into the corner. His bed is a queen, clean and actually kind of made, and Clarke is looking forward to spending a lot of time there. "If you're more into that."

"Next time," she says, and doesn't miss the way his whole face lights up, even though he tries to hide it kissing her again. 

He pushes her onto the bed and crowds on top of her, in control again, and Clarke lets her hands tug his shirt up and off. He returns the favor while the kiss is already broken, and then his mouth is on hers again, like he can't get enough of just kissing her.

He's just working his hand under her bra when someone starts pounding on his door, and she hears Lexa yell, "Blake!"

He groans and drops his head against her shoulder. "This better not be a thing, me getting cockblocked by your ex-girlfriend."

"She can't do it forever."

"I know you're in there! I know what you and Clarke did!"

"Are we that obvious?" he grumbles, and Clarke pushes him off gently, slides her skirt off and pulls his shirt on instead.

"Get under the covers, I've got this," she promises, presses her lips against his once more before going to the door. She checks herself in the mirror to make sure her hair is sufficiently mussed, and then she opens the door with her most unimpressed expression. "What?"

Lexa looks taken aback. "Where's Bellamy?"

"I wore him out," she says, allowing herself an appropriate amount of smugness. "What's up?"

She can see Lexa trying to do the math, attempting to figure out if they had time to wrap tin foil around her mattress, in addition to apparently hooking up all afternoon. "Someone broke into my room," she finally says.

"What did they take?"

Her frown deepens. "Nothing. It was a prank."

"Oh. Well, we were busy, so--not us. Sorry."

Bellamy comes over to wrap his arm around her waist, down to just a pair of boxer-briefs. He looks as disheveled as she does, and she leans into him automatically. "Hey, Lexa. What happened?"

"Prank week."

"Got it. What prank?"

Lexa's jaw works as she looks between them, but Clarke is confident they look like two people who have been making out all afternoon. "Nevermind. You really don't know anything about it?" she asks, focus on Clarke.

"Better things to do," she says. "Sorry."

There's another awkward moment as Lexa squints at them, like if she stares hard enough a solution will present itself, and then Bellamy clears his throat. "Seriously, sorry about whatever happened, but we were kind of in the middle of something, so--"

Lexa startles. "Yes. Of course. I'll just--" She jerks her head. "I didn't mean to disturb you."

"No problem," says Clarke. "I hope you figure it out."

Once the door is closed, she muffles another bout of laughter against Bellamy's chest, and he pats her back. "You know your ex-girlfriend thinks we're dating now, right?" he asks, once she's recovered.

"I think we're dating now too," she tells him. "Sorry, did you not want us to be dating?"

"I was just thinking it's going to be hard to get back into Lexa's closet to celebrate our anniversary."

"I'm pretty sure any tight, enclosed space will do." When he doesn't respond for a minute, she looks up, sees him in serious contemplation. "What?"

"Just trying to figure out if I should wait until after I get laid to make a joke about your tight, enclosed spaces," he says, and she groans. He grins and kisses her again, walking her back toward the bed. "I definitely think I should get laid first. Just to be on the safe side."

"Just to be on the safe side," she agrees, and pulls him back on top of her.

She's not sure if Lexa actually knows that they were responsible for the tin foil and the shaving cream, or if she was just generally annoyed about her inability to figure out who fucked with her stuff and about having found her ex-girlfriend hooking up with a guy she doesn't like, but either way, it's just two days before Clarke comes home from a TA session to find her entire dorm room covered in saran wrap.

She thinks about dealing with it for all of ten seconds, and then she just punctures the plastic covering her dresser, grabs a change of clothes and her toiletries, and heads over to Bellamy's.

"We're gonna have to get revenge now," she says, settling back in his bed to read. She probably would have ended up here anyway, honestly; his bed is nicer than hers is. And she gets boyfriend time. It's the best. "My honor is at stake."

Bellamy looks between her and his laptop a couple times, indecisive, and before sighing and flopping into bed next to her, nuzzling her neck. He hasn't yet admitted that he's been in love with her for a while, but it's pretty fucking obvious. That's also the best.

"My honor, Bellamy!" she says, laughing as he slides his hand under her shirt. "Don't you care about my honor?"

"Not even a little," he says. "Honestly, I was thinking I really owe Lexa one for this. I should get her something nice."

Clarke snorts and kisses him. "Don't tell me you're going to start going soft now that we're dating."

"No way," he says, rolling them over. "I just have so many better things to do with my time."

And, really, it's very hard to argue with that. Bellamy can be _incredibly_ persuasive.


End file.
